


The Big Tip-Off

by Bdonna, molo (esteefee)



Series: Big One [5]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Chromatic Character, First Times, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Series, Sleepy Sex, zine story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-14
Updated: 2006-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:13:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bdonna/pseuds/Bdonna, https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/molo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back to the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover Art

**Author's Note:**

> Artwork by the incredibly talented [Sonja](http://www.false-colors.net/indexx.html). I am so grateful to her for letting me link to her work from the zine, [_Blood and Destiny_](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Blood_and_Destiny) where this story first appeared in October, 2006. Also to Kassidy for making this story a reality. I wouldn't have written it if it weren't for her, and the series would always have been a little bit incomplete. Thanks, my Beast.

  



	2. The Big Tip-Off

I think it’s time to go back to the beginning.

See, everyone’s always asking me (well, all three of the people who know about it) how the two of us, Hutch and me, got together in the first place. I mean ‘got together’ as in ‘started in with the funny-stuff.’  Of course, it doesn’t feel ha-ha funny while we’re in the middle of it. More like dyin’, but dyin’ _real_ happy, if you wanna know. And I think you do.

Well, the truth is...I won’t tell you how the big moment came about, except to say it happened during an earthquake—what Hutch and me like to call ‘the Big One.’ I know I’ve told you just about everything else about us, to the graphic detail (Hutch has a tiny mole on the inside of his thigh right next to his left nut, did I mention? It’s the hottest damned thing you ever saw) but I ain’t gonna tell you that—there’s some things that are too personal to share. But it occurs to me maybe you’re wondering how the hell we got up to that point. Sometimes I wonder myself, so maybe it would help to get it down.

I guess you could say it all started about a week before the earthquake. Or maybe it was ten years before. I’m a little unclear on the exact date. But right around the time of the Big One, things got a little...hairy.

See, I had just passed the physical re-qualification exam, and Hutch and I were celebrating in pure style. Huggy had closed the Pits early and invited our friends and all these hot mammas to come celebrate with us....

 

ooOoo

 

“Hutch,” I said, and it’s possible it came out more like ‘Hutsch’ at that point, because I think I had put down a couple of pitchers of beer by then. I’d been in and out of the bathroom so many times I was thinking of just moving the party to the john. “The jukebox has stopped...juking,” I told him. “Needs—”

“More quarters,” Hutch muttered, and his hair fell over his face as he went digging through his pockets again, but I could’ve told him he wouldn’t find any more in there. Sure enough, all he pulled out was some Juicy Fruit gum, the pop-tops off of some soda cans (he collects them when he finds them on the beach and then takes them down to a recycling place. I swear to God). And, for some weird, known-only-to-the-Blintz reason, he then pulled out a green and white tube of Tester’s airplane glue and what looked like the knob off of some appliance. He stared down at the collection on the table for a second and then shook his head mournfully.

“No quarters, no music.” Hutch said, all apologetic. He had obviously reached that state of complete drunkenness where he only bothers using the really important words in a sentence.

“Yes, music,” I said, and I waved at Huggy, who came over to join us, escorting a tall, redheaded fox by the name of Sheila. Huggy had introduced her early in the evening but had kept a proprietary hand around her waist the entire night. I saw Hutch look up.  His head was on a direct level with her boobs, and his eyes widened before he dropped his head again. I could swear he was blushing.

“Hug, the music’s stopped.” I waved at the jukebox.

“And just what, my friend, do you expect the Bear to do about that?” Huggy asked, his voice slow and sloppy, and I realized that Huggy was just a little noodled. I don’t think I’d ever seen him in that state before. I looked over at our captain where he was playing some pool with Linda Baylor, thinking I could get him to come over and help me rib Huggy, when I saw Dobey make the world’s most terrible shot, almost scratching the felt. And as he laughed and said something too loud, I suddenly figured out that _he_ was drunk, too. In fact, all of my closest friends were plastered to the eyeballs. I was the soberest person in the room.

I think that’s when I finally realized just how damned worried everyone had been that I wouldn’t make it back.

They hadn’t given the first sign, of course. Everyone had acted like it was a done deal that I would re-qualify—even Hutch, although I know him well enough to know what it means when that divot between his eyebrows looks like someone had taken a chisel to his forehead.

I loved ’em all so much in that second, and the Blintz most of all, because he was gazing at me like he had been all night, as if I was some surprise birthday present he’d been staring at through a store window for months.

“Quarters,” Hutch said, real slowly, and he turned his head to look up at Huggy, almost bumping into Sheila’s prodigious bust. “Round, metal objects with which we might coax the jukebox into playing more music for my buddy, here.”

The sentence seemed to exhaust him and his head dropped back against the seat top, his eyes half-closing to slits. Huggy laughed and dropped his arm from around Sheila to dig into his pockets. All he came up with was a roll of Wint-o-green lifesavers and a couple of condoms, which he hastily stuffed back into his pocket. I think I detected a blush, although with Huggy it’s awfully hard to tell.

“No quarters, no music,” Hutch repeated in a dire voice, and then his eyes slid all the way shut.

“’S okay, Hutch,” I said, “I think it’s time to be moseying, anyway.”

Huggy looked surprised. “But you haven’t yet tripped the light fantastic, my brother. Angela over there has been hoping you’ll show her your moves.” Huggy waggled his eyebrows suggestively, making me laugh.

But for some reason I just wasn’t in the mood.

“Some other time for Angela, Hug. Gotta get the Blintz here tucked in.” I stood up and stretched, feeling the tiny tug in my chest and abdomen, a familiar tight, burny feeling. But it was better, so much better than it had been that I just didn’t give a damn. As long as I could back Hutch up, nothing else mattered.

“You leavin’, son?” Captain Dobey called out, and he leaned over to say something to Linda. I bent over Hutch and tugged at the big shoulder.

“Rise and shine, Blondie,” I said, bumping into Linda, who was suddenly at my elbow.

“I’ll give you a hand, tiger,” she said, sounding way too sober for this point in the festivities. “I’m on orders to drive you boys home.”

“Drive us home?”

“Yup. Dobey made me promise to stay dry tonight so I could get you home safe.”

“Aw, you didn’t have to do that, Baylor,” I said, but I was smiling, thinking it would be nice not to have to wrestle Hutch into a cab at that hour. And that I hated to leave the Torino in such a skunky neighborhood—

“Hey, waitaminnit,” I said, interrupting my thought. “You mean you think you’re gonna drive my car?” I suddenly felt a tiny bit more sober.

“You betcha,” Linda said, helping me push and tug Hutch to his feet. “Why d’ya think I fell in with the plan?  This is my big chance.” She laughed as Hutch swayed, his tall bulk almost toppling on top of her. “Woah, there, big fella,” she said, putting her shoulder under him, her wiry arm wrapping around his waist.

Hutch’s eyes opened a little wider and he looked down at her with a big, sloppy smile, then bent down and kissed her cheek.

“You’re one in a million, Linda,” he said. “Have I ever tol’ you how much I admire you?” He squeezed her in a little tighter and then I saw something that made me doubt my eyeballs—Linda Baylor, looking all shy and embarrassed.

“Aw, go on, you,” she said, a little breathlessly.

Hutch laughed and dropped his head to nudge her red curls with his forehead.

“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” I said. It came out a little loud and I saw Hutch raise his head and look at me. We all called out our goodnights and thanks, and the Cap and some of the other guys from the squad came over to congratulate me again and pound me on the back until I started to feel like bread dough in a kneading machine.

Then we were out in the cool night air, Hutch shuffling along next to Linda. We stopped in front of the Torino and I dug my keys out of my pocket and reluctantly handed them to Linda, who laughed.

“Oh boy, oh goody!” she said, and I frowned at her.

Hutch mumbled something.

“What’s that, big guy?” I said, managing to get the door open after only one unsuccessful attempt. The cold air was doing a number on my beer-soaked brain.

“Hate this dumb car,” Hutch said more clearly as I maneuvered him into the back seat and slid in next to him.

“No you don’t, you big liar.”

Hutch grunted his disagreement, which got drowned out as Linda started up the engine, pumping the gas to engage the choke.

“Do _so_ ,” Hutch mumbled again.

“Oh, yeah?  Why’s that?” I asked him, but my attention was on Linda as she put the Torino in gear and pulled away. Satisfied that she wasn’t going to run us into a telephone pole right away, I nudged Hutch. “What’s the Torino ever done to ya, huh?”

Hutch dropped his head and said something, his voice really low. It took me a moment to decipher it.

“Saved _me_ , but not you.”

I looked up quickly but Linda didn’t seem to have heard him. I leaned in close and whispered to Hutch, “I’m glad she protected you, babe. Don’t hate her for that.”

But Hutch shook his head and pulled away.

“Anyway,” I said, trying to get the good mood back, “if you hate the Torino so much, how come you got her fixed up so nice and pretty for me?”

“Wasn’t me,” Hutch said, shaking his head stubbornly. “Must’ve been some other damned fool.”

I smiled at the obvious lie and leaned my shoulder against his, remembering when I was riding home at last from the hospital, how strange it was to be outside, and how I felt so weak and puny and hollow. And then, when we pulled up to my apartment, what it had meant to me to see the Torino glowing there, looking so perfect—like a promise. Like I would someday be that strong and shiny and whole again, myself.

“Hey, Linda, we going to my place?” I asked her.

“Yeah, you live closer to me. Hutch can crash with you, ’cause I sure the hell ain’t schlepping you both home.”

I was glad I’d be sleeping in my own bed, although I knew Hutch’s back hated the couch. When I’d first come home, he’d borrowed a rollaway so he could stay with me and help me with stuff.

It was weird, at first, having him around all the time. Even though we spent so much time together at work and off, having him pretty much living with me for a while was really strange. I learned some new things about him I hadn’t known. Like:  the guy normally sleeps in pjs, tops _and_ bottoms (at least, he used to. I think these days I’ve cured him of that particular habit). And he flosses for a really long time before bed.

And he talks in his sleep, sometimes.

So it was weird at first, but it wasn’t long before I was really grateful to have him around, especially when the pain was keeping me up and I was bored. We’d sit and talk and he’d get my mind off of things. And we talked about stuff we never talked about before. It wasn’t like on stakeout where we were trying to keep each other amused or awake. It was heavier than that. Sometimes we’d be half-asleep, still talking, saying things that maybe we wouldn’t have, normally. For the first time he opened up just a little bit about Vanessa, for example. I’d never gotten him to talk about her before; always he’d clam up whenever I mentioned her. Boy, she did a number on him.

Anyway, after Hutch moved out again, it got so I kind of missed him a little, if that’s not too crazy. After all, I still saw him all the time. He came over right after work and helped me with house stuff, and listened to me bitch about my physio sessions, and usually cooked me dinner, although I really didn’t enjoy that part so much. But that little time when we were living together kind of felt really long ago, at that point. So I was looking forward to having him stay over again. I rested my head against the seat back and listened to the hum of the Torino’s engine and thought about it, and Hutch.

Before I knew it we’d come to a stop and Linda’s hand was on my knee, shaking me awake.

“We’re here, sleepy boys,” she said. Hutch had collapsed against me and was even snoring a little. I nudged him with my shoulder and he shifted away making protesting noises. It struck me as pretty funny, like we were two kids in the backseat on a family trip. Everything felt vague and unreal.

Together, Linda and I managed to hoist my big lunk of a partner up the stairs and drop him onto the couch. Linda called a cab and I went to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When I came back out she was sitting on the edge of couch next to Hutch, who was completely gone. She’d tugged off his shoes and was tucking a blanket around him, looking down. She had a funny expression on her face.

“What?” I said, and then felt dumb for asking because she suddenly looked embarrassed.

“It’s nothing, just…poor guy. He’s really been through the ringer these last couple of months. About you, mostly. You know, every day he would come into the squad and give us a progress report, like every new little thing you did was this big miracle?”

It made my throat dry. “Yeah, but we’re both okay, now.”

“Yeah.” She looked up at me real quick, then back down at Hutch, and brushed her hand against the hair on his forehead, pushing it out of his face.

That was the second time that night Linda had surprised me by showing a softer side to herself. It was interesting, but I didn’t like that she was touching him when he wasn’t awake.

Just then there was a honk outside and we both jumped.

“Cab,” she explained, and got up and grabbed her purse. “You both are gonna feel like hell in the morning,” she said with a wicked grin as she zipped up her jacket.

“Yeah, well, it was worth it, though. Thanks for your help, Linda.” I dug into my pocket, thinking I should give her cab fare, but she just shook her head and then surprised me by giving me a kiss on the cheek. She must’ve seen how startled I was because she grinned again and then patted me on the shoulder.

“Be good to have you back, Curly,” she said, and left.

I locked up after her and stumbled around turning off the lights. The nights were getting colder, so I pulled out an extra blanket for Hutch and went back to the couch to spread it over him. Then I sat down, right where Linda had been, and just looked at him for a bit. The way I hadn’t really had a chance to, lately, because I’d been so busy getting better. From the way she’d been looking at him, with that sad expression…  I think, at the time, I had some idea I was going to try to look for what she had seen.

At first I couldn’t. Hutch’s mug is about as familiar to me as my left hand, and about as interesting. I mean, he’s a good-looking guy, but I was looking at _Hutch_ , if you get my drift, and there’s no big mystery to his face—that all-American, handsome face of his. And yet, there _was_. There was a mystery, there, in the shadows under his eyes, and the droop at the corners, and the way his mouth pulled down too, even in his sleep, as if the skin there was tight. (Only, he was drooling a little too, so it couldn’t have been too tight.)  And how tired he looked, his skin looking pale and a little papery.

It was like suddenly seeing cracks in a wall you’d been leaning up against.

“Hutch?” I didn’t mean to say it out loud, but he didn’t wake up. His head shifted a little on the cushion, and his hair dropped over his eye again. I think it was the memory of Linda doing the same thing that inspired me to do what I did next.

I reached out and pushed the hair away and let my hand rest on his cheek for a second. Not our usual kind of touch. When I did it, Hutch turned his head into my hand, and I could feel his lips move slightly against my palm.

I got a sudden case of serious goose bumps, and took my hand away. And then I got up quick and finished getting ready for bed.

I know what you’re thinking right now, and you’re right: I’m a big idiot. But I swear at the time I didn’t realize what had just happened to me. No, back then I just felt uncomfortable, like I’d just been caught doing something weird. And I felt guilty, both because I hadn’t noticed how stressed and tired Hutch had gotten, but also because I had touched him when he didn’t have a choice, just like Linda had. Only Hutch had responded to me, like he hadn’t for her.

But I was too freaked out to realize that I had just touched Hutch like…like _that_. Like a lover.

And, seeing as he was asleep at the time, it’s pretty certain Hutch hadn’t noticed, either.

 

ooOoo

 

Oh, boy. The Blintz just got back from his run and he’s chugging a quart of orange juice. Next will be his shower, and then he’s gonna pounce on me for some Saturday afternoon delight. So I’d better go check and make sure we have enough Crisco.

Yeah, we use Crisco. What’s it to ya?  It’s cheaper than that K-Y stuff, for one thing, and for another, it has lasting power. And it reminds me of apple pie.

But I gotta go….

ooOoo

 

Okay, I’m back. And, truth be told, I’m having a little trouble sitting, so I’m on the couch. Hutch got it in his head that we’re always racing too fast for the finish line, so he read up on some Eastern sex philosophy and was all gung ho to try this new method.

First, he got me all warmed up good, sucking me with that incredible mouth. He was facing my feet, his beautiful ass by my right hand and his chest draped over my belly, and my cock was deep, deep in his throat, with his nose pressed against my nuts. It was amazing feeling it from that angle; my only complaint being I couldn’t move my hips and fuck his mouth properly. But he took care of it by swallowing over and over, the muscles of his throat sending me into orbit. When I came it felt like my brain was leaking out of my ears, and still he was swallowing, the softest part of his mouth moving around cock.

Jesus. I love that guy.

After he was done with me I was so limp he could’ve poked me with a cattle prod and I wouldn’t have complained. But he spent a long time lubing my asshole, and then coating himself, as careful as he was the first time he fucked me (and let me tell you, that first time…well, it took me a while to convince him to even try it, and when he finally did come into me there was so much lube on all related surfaces that he kept slipping off my asshole before he could penetrate. I would’ve laughed but I was too busy freaking out deep inside my head that he wouldn’t, you know, _fit_ —or, worse, that he would give up, and I wanted it so bad at that point. But, anyway.) 

So, this afternoon he put me on my side and I swear he used half a cup of Crisco on us both (no apples) and then slid into me so slow and smooth…and then he just stayed in there, moving just barely, and touching me all over. After a while I started to get real sleepy, so I was sort of half-awake, almost dreaming he was fucking me while he really was. And Hutch just kept moving slow, out and in, and every so often he would groan softly in my ear. He played with my balls, and ran his fingers underneath, which I really love, and just kept _fucking._ In my weird, half-awake state it started to feel like he had always been fucking me, forever. It was incredible. Finally, I really did fall asleep, and then woke up a while later with him still in me, and his hand was on my cock, which had gotten hard again while I dreamt he was screwing my lights out, and before I knew it I was coming, that kind of intense, dirty orgasm like a wet dream, so dark and delicious, if you know what I mean, and he came right along with me, which doesn’t happen all that often, no matter what you read in the porno magazines.

So I guess that Eastern mumbo-jumbo is worth something, after all.

Afterward, we both fell right asleep, him still inside me, which sounds romantic, only when I woke up later I was sore and really sticky. So I cleaned us both up and then left him sleeping so I could finish writing this stuff down.

Back to the morning after my party. We both woke up with hangovers. Hutch’s was worse than mine, and his back was killing him, to boot, so he ended up lounging around on my couch and bitching all morning, which had the effect of easing my guilt a little over what Linda had pointed out to me the night before. I decided I would tease him a little about how she was apparently sweet on him.

“You were pretty blitzed last night. You know you even kissed Baylor?”

“Did not,” he grumbled. He was doing some weird stretch, trying to work out the kink in his back. It looked painful as all get out, to tell you the truth.

“Did so. And she got all red and giggly like a teenager. Our Baylor!” I laughed a little, although it was kind of forced because I really didn’t think it was that funny, but then Hutch turned a weird shade of red himself, and suddenly I was _very_ interested.

“Baylor’s a good cop,” was all he said, and he turned, twisting a little and rubbing at the small of his back, conveniently hiding his face.

“You want me to work on that?” I asked him. “You look like you’re hurting pretty good.” Hutch had given me a couple of rubdowns when I was still recovering from the ‘incident,’ so I figured fair was fair.

But Hutch mumbled, “No, thanks,” and plopped down on the floor on his back. “I think I’ll just lie here for a week or two, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure, Blondie, but you’ll have to move occasionally when I do the vacuuming.” I went on and did some things around the house, cleaning up the breakfast dishes and stuff. When I came back to the living room Hutch was still lying in the same place, a funny frown on his face.

“Uh, Starsk. How often do you vacuum?” he asked, and he didn’t sound so good.

“Once every couple of weeks. How come?”

“‘Cause I think…I’m gonna be here a while.” Hutch shifted his shoulders and then grimaced.

 _Crap_. “Your back’s gone out?”

“Yeah. There goes our first day back on the job together.”

It was so typical of the Blintz that he was lying on his back, hurting, and all he could think of was he hated ruining our first day back as partners.

Come to think of it, I hated it, too.

“Never mind about that, babe. Tell me what to do.”

Hutch considered it a moment, then said, “Heating pad, if you’ve got one. Or boil some water and get some clean towels—”

I had to suppress a sudden laugh at the way he phrased it, but Hutch heard me anyway and threw an evil glare in my direction.

“Just great,” he muttered, “you’re laughing, and me on my bed of pain.”

And that was so much like something my ma would say that I really did start laughing, earning another hairy eyeball.

“Okay, buddy. Okay. I’ve got a heating pad. Lemme go dig it up.”

I found the damned thing buried deep in the closet under an old photo album. I brought it along with, thinking I could entertain Hutch while we got his back straightened out.

So to speak.

Once I had the pad plugged in, I helped Hutch roll over onto his stomach. My laughter dried up pretty quick when I saw his face twist from how badly he was hurting. He was holding his breath the whole time, and when he was finally settled on his belly he let out the air in his lungs real slow, as if afraid even to exhale. I pushed up his shirt and picked up the heating pad.

“Where?”

“Down low,” he said, and I laid the warm pad on the small of his back, folding his shirt down and then tucking it under his stomach to help hold the pad in place.

“Starsk?” Hutch said. “You have anything…?” He stopped and I waited, but he didn’t go on.

“Anything?” I prodded.

“Like…muscle relaxants. From when you were….”

Man, the guy had to be hurting pretty bad if he was asking for drugs.

“Yeah, I have a bunch of painkillers left—”

“Not painkillers. Muscle relaxants…different.” Even talking seemed to hurt him, and he shut up quick.

So I got up and called our doctor. We both have the same GP, and we even have his home number, which comes in handy when one of us needs to get help for the other. Which seems to happen too damned often, if you ask me. Doc Adams listened to the story and then told me he’d call in a prescription.

I hunkered down next to Hutch and laid my hand on the heating pad. It was cooking pretty nicely at this point.

“Okay, Hutch. I’m gonna go pick up your prescription. You need anything before I go?”

Hutch turned his head and looked at me before saying, seriously, “A kiss.”

I think I gaped at him a second before I got that he was yanking my chain. And in that one second...something weird happened with my heartbeat.

I let him have his laugh, knowing he’d gotten me good so I didn’t have much of a choice about it. And, anyway, I was relieved he was feeling okay enough to joke around with me.

I was almost out the door when he said, seriously, “Hang on.  Can you bring me my gun?”

I think I gaped at him a second.  What the hell did he need his gun for?  And then I realized he must be feeling pretty vulnerable, not being able to move.  And after all we’ve been through, what might seem paranoid to you just doesn’t, to us.  So I didn’t say a word, just brought him his Magnum and put it next to his right hand.  He didn’t look at me.

It only took me about thirty minutes to pick up the prescription and some groceries and get back to my apartment. Hutch was still lying there, his head pillowed on his left arm, his right hand twitching a little when I came in

“Okay, partner. You gotta get two of these down.” I brought a glass of water from the kitchen and cracked open the pill bottle. It was an awkward thing getting the glass positioned so he could drink from it, but finally he swallowed the pills and then relaxed again.

“I also brought this.” I waved a tube of Ben Gay in front of his nose and he curled his lip. “Seriously, Hutch, let me rub some of this on there. It might help.”

Hutch nodded wearily against his forearm, and I didn’t lose any time getting his shirt up and the heating pad off so I could apply the gunk.

He gasped when I first started rubbing it in. I immediately eased up on the pressure. It was weird:  in all the times I had helped Hutch when he was injured or whatever, I had never once helped him with his back problems. It’s like he figured he didn’t deserve it since it didn’t happen in the line of duty or something. I suddenly realized this was the first time he’d ever let me touch his back.

I tried to go real gentle. The slimy stuff had a strong smell, and it made my nose itch. I wanted to ask him if it was helping any but then he gave this tiny little sigh, so that was encouraging. I kept the pressure light, and after a while I could feel the tight muscles start to relax under my hand. As he began relaxing, I did, too, and started to really notice how, well, _nice_ it was, the skin under my hands. Warm and smooth, and soft, except for the muscles that would ripple and twitch sometimes. And the long lines of his back, and the way they sloped down to his butt....

So maybe that was my second big clue, only you know I was too stupid to pick up on it, even then?  I just thought I felt good because I was doing something nice for Hutch, helping him, stopping him from hurting. Which is my job, just like it’s his, to do for me.

Yeah, so I’m a big dummy.

Anyway, as I was rubbing lower, almost down to his butt cheeks, he let out this groan, pure relief, and it made my balls tingle. I stopped right away and said, “Okay, partner. Feeling better?”

He nodded without saying anything.

“Well, then.” I rubbed my hands together; they suddenly felt clammy as hell, like they get sometimes when we’re about to go into a bad situation. And my stomach felt funny, too. I pulled Hutch’s shirt back down, covering him, and then put the heating pad on top.

“We’ll just let you cook a while,” I kidded, and he mumbled a thank you, and that was that.

Hutch slept on the floor that night, and the next day he was able to get up okay. A few days later we were back on the job, and I forgot all about it.

Really.

 

ooOoo

 

Sorry, I got interrupted again. Not for nookie, this time. I mean, I know you think we’re supermen, but have you ever noticed if you fuck too much your dick gets sore and it’s hard to pee? 

No, this time the Blintz pulled me outside for some ‘fresh air,’ as he likes to call it, as if the smog in this town wasn’t enough to choke a rhino. But it’s our only day off this week, so I went along with him down to Redondo Beach. They’ve got some cool arcade games on the pier there, and we bought a roll of tickets and just went crazy with the clown balloon game (Hutch is a dead shot with the water pistol, but I watched a couple of rounds first and picked the one with more water pressure, so he was hosed. Literally.)

I won a pink-and-white stuffed panda and promptly offered it to him.

“For you, darlin’,” I said, and I swear he turned the same shade as the bear.

He took it, though.

Okay, so back to the before-time. Man, it’s hard for me to believe how dense I was being back then. But the truth is, it’d been a while since I’d been in love, so I think I’d even forgotten what it felt like, that excitement when you’re falling for someone...okay, that’s bullshit. Truth is I don’t think I wanted to know.

I think I was downright scared.

We were back on the streets. At first, every time we ran into a snitch or parolee that we knew, he or she’d either act surprised to see us, or terrified like I was a ghost or a saint or something.

Hutch started to get ticked off at how they were acting toward me, and finally with one guy he lost his temper and grabbed our snitch, saying, “Put the word out, Lefty. Starsky and Hutch are _back_. You got that?”

Lefty nodded over and over, as if he were one of those bobble-heads on a dashboard, and Hutch grunted and dropped him, repeating, “Spread the word.”

That did it, pretty much. By the next day the news had got around and it was just like old times out there, except we had both agreed to take things a little easier at first go until we were up to speed again.

Only, the truth is we’re still a little more careful these days. Just a little, if you get me. Neither of us wants to be the next one on the gurney. And I think Dobey would kill us both himself if we ended up back on disability again.

So there we were, out on the streets. Our first real work, beyond reestablishing our presence, was a case involving a drunken man smothered in his bed. It wasn’t a tough one to solve. The address had a log of domestic disturbance calls on it longer than my arm.

Seemed like the woman had stuffed a pillow over her abusive husband’s face, and then calmly gone off to work afterward. That’s where we caught up with her, at a clothing factory down in the garment district.

Hutch gave me a look to let me know he would approach her. He has a way with women and children. Something about his eyes. And his hands—they’re big, but they can touch you so gentle. But as soon as he pulled his badge, she started backing away fast through the machine shop. He ended up following her until he was standing underneath what looked like a big funnel thing, and I started to get a bad feeling in my gut.

“Hutch!” I yelled, but it was just as she reached out and yanked some big lever. Before either of us could move this giant mountain of...pink fuzz came tumbling down onto Hutch’s shoulders. Bits of cloth, I guess for making sweaters. A huge pile of pink, like a snowdrift.

Hutch just stood there in shock as he got bombarded, and I took advantage of her distraction to come up beside her and cuff her. Then I looked back over at him.

And I swear it was in that moment that something really funny happened to me. I mean it wasn’t like I didn’t already know I cared a lot about the big lug, probably more than was really normal. And it wasn’t like some big revelation hit me, and I suddenly wanted to jump his bony body. It was just...something about the offended expression on his face, which just grew pinker every second to match the fabric still plopping on his shoulders and head...it was like I _knew_ how much I loved him, right then. It just took over my whole body in a big whoosh of feeling, and for a second I was almost dizzy.

And then he was growling, “Starsky!” so I guess I must’ve been laughing, too, only I wasn’t laughing _at_ him. Only he couldn’t know that, of course—couldn’t know that I was laughing for pure joy. Because I loved him.

We took Felicita down to the station. I could hear her say something in Spanish, _‘¿Debí esperarlo para matarme?’_ and Hutch leaned over and translated. “‘Was I supposed to wait for him to kill me?’ _”_

These cases are always the worst. Her face was red from crying, and the big shiner she had on her left eye, and the way her cheek and mouth were all swollen, told me she’d already had a tough time of it, and now her life was about to get rougher.

Seems like some folks never get the breaks.

 

ooOoo

 

Oh, boy. Hutch went on a neatening-up spree and found my writings. I am so screwed. He’s seriously pissed that I’ve been telling tales out of school.

“But we _need_ to get this all down, Hutch. Don’t you see?” I told him. “We’re like...epic. We’re the great romance of our time!”

This did not make him forgive me. In fact, instead, right then he offered to show me what ‘romance’ is all about, and I’m only just now able to walk again, and he’s not in much better shape. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to write down the details. But I did tell him I fully intend to fill this in all the way up to the Big One, just so we can go back and read it someday ourselves.

So where was I?  Oh, right, the big revelation. Only it wasn’t. Just me taking another little step. I took a lot of them that week, one after another.

We went back to Hutch’s place after work that night. See, we spend pretty much every night together after work, which you might think is really weird, but I swear it’s not. We don’t spend every minute together. Usually I’m doing my own thing, working on the Torino or on my model ships or reading or listening to music, and Hutch’ll be out on his deck repotting, or playing his guitar or lifting his free weights or what have you.

We just like to have each other...nearby.

But first, we usually eat dinner. This time Hutch was cooking. I told him I definitely wanted something with real meat in it this time, no fish or bean curds or whatever, so he was sizzling up some hamburger. He’d just taken it off the fire, and I was in the kitchen getting the beer out when I looked up at him and noticed he still had pink lint fuzz sticking to his shoulders, and in his hair. And there was a tiny bit of fluff caught in his eyelash.

“Hold still,” I said, and he did. I put my hand up and he looked a little surprised. Then his eyes closed, and I used the back of my knuckle to brush the lint from his eyelash, so soft under my finger.

That was when, holy Jesus, I got a boner.

Talk about a tip-off. I guess my body was tired of going the subtle route, because I caught wood in my pants faster than a BMW on the _Autobahn_. I dropped my hand in a hurry and stepped back, reeling a little.

I was ready to panic, but when Hutch opened his eyes, I saw something in them. Something that told me I wasn’t alone. (Not that I ever could be, as long as I have him.)

The tingle spread from my balls up to my gut and started playing the marimba on my heart. We stared at each other for what seemed like forever, and then his eyes shuttered closed again and he pushed past me to go to his room, like a retreat of some kind.

But the side of his neck was bright red. So I followed him.

I remember the next moment so clearly it’s like a photograph in my hand, bright as Kodachrome. Me, standing next to him, both of us breathing heavy, the light from his deck casting shadows through the kitchen window across his face. And I finally understood what had been going on with me for forever, and all I wanted to do was curl myself around him and touch him everywhere I could, but my every muscle was frozen solid, totally unable to move.

I remember wondering in that moment what it would take to get either of us to actually _do_ something—anything—to make that big jump from where we were to where we were heading. I was thinking we’d probably need an act of God of some kind, we were that stuck, right on the edge.

And then, wouldn’t you know it, the Big One hit.

 

ooOoo

 

Oh shit, he’s here, looking over my shoulder.

“What’re you writing?” he asks, and his mouth is kinda buried in the side of my neck as he says it, so his lips are moving there, making my pants stiff.

“You _know_ what I’m writing,” I say, trying not to shiver. Also, trying not to drop my pen and spin around and press my face against his crotch, which would be my normal _modus operandi_.

He starts reading over my shoulder, his lips still playing with me, and he makes a hmmphing noise.

“That’s where you leave off, right?” he says. “You promise you’re not going to write down what happens next, are you?”

“Nope. That’s _private._ ”

“Well. Maybe you _can_ mention the part where I made you come like six times in twenty minutes, ’cause I make so hot.” But he’s smiling against my neck, so I know it’s just another one of his stupid jokes.

“Nuh uh. What I was going to write next was a sort of summing up.”

He nods his approval and starts nuzzling me again, right behind the ear, and his hand has come around my waist to play with the bulge in my pants.

So I’ll have to make this quick

Maybe the earthquake was what it took to get us going, but once we were together, it didn’t really matter. We did the rest on our own. I mean, I’m not saying it was smooth sailing right off the bat, but the important thing was we finally made that step. And then another, and then another. The whole thing was a little like solving a case.

Although, truly, I think I’m a better detective when it comes to other people than I am about myself because, looking back, it’s not like I wasn’t slapped in the face by enough clues along the way.

And Hutch...well. Turns out he’d already been clued in himself a long, long time ago. Way too long for my tastes, but I’ve always known he loves a little too hard, and a little too much.

Not that you’ll catch me complaining.

 

 

 _Finis._

 

February 21, 2006  
San Francisco, CA

 


End file.
